


The Doggie Chronicles

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Hanna [18]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Fun, Golden Retriever, Han doesn't stand a chance, Humour, Life with children, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Seduction, Sleepy Tom, Smut, They get a dog, Vaginal Sex, caring Han
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: The Hiddleston bunch won't get a family dog. Or will they? Tom and the children try everything to convince Han.





	1. Week One

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be multi-chaptered. We don't know how many there'll be yet, as these are the last snippets for Tom and Han that we've posted on Tumblr so far. But we'll see you around again :)

“No.”

It’s a simple word. A word, Han has practiced over the last couple of years, with or without Tom. And now, being a mother to a three- and a one-year-old, Han’s got the feeling she’s saying this word more than any other. Well,  _nein_ , maybe, but that’s the same, isn’t it?

_‘No, don’t throw the remote control’, ‘No, don’t stick that into your nose’, ‘No, don’t hit your sister’._

It’s not often that she uses the word with Tom, though. As it is the case right now.

“But why not?” he whines. Much like his children whenever she uses ‘No’ with them.

“Because we don’t have the time to have a dog, Tom.”

Surely, he gets that? He has to.

“But, Han.”

Sounds suspiciously like the drawn-out “but, mo-om”s she’s getting all the time. Seriously, sometimes her husband is the biggest toddler of all.

And he’s perfected his pout.

“No but,” she insists, grabbing a dish towel to wipe the counter.

“No buttttt,” Jamie pipes up from the table, making it sound like the word for…well, arse.

Oh dear, Jamie. For a moment, Hanna forgot that their son is here and will most definitely start begging too once he’s realized what they’re discussing.

Heaven help her, it’ll be a popular uprising under their roof, and she’ll of course be the cruel villain again. The Mama Monster.

With a sigh, she slaps the towel back down and looks at Tom, who’s still pouting and giving her such pleading puppy eyes that getting a dog seems redundant.

But she won’t back down. Han knows how this will go. They’ll get a dog because Tom wants one and of course Jamie and wee Vicky think a puppy is so cute.

And then Han will clean up after them. Walk them, take them to the vet, bath them, walk them again, while the others play with them. No. No way.

“I’m going to have all the work with it,” she says as she puts a plate with cut apples in front of Jamie. He looks at them – and her – as if someone tries to poison him. Candies don’t get that look.

_“Iss, bitte,”_  she tells his son, “when you’ve eaten up, we can go out and play.”  _(Eat, please.)_

It does get her a toothy smile and Jamie’s hands grab for the apple slices. He loves being outside.

“You know,” Tom says from the counter. “We’re outside so much, a dog wouldn’t even make a difference. And you won’t have all the work with a dog.”

“Dog, dog, dog, dog,” Jamie chants.

“Tom, no.”

He’s grinning way too much to actually look sheepish. And he even looks cute when doing so.

Sauntering over, Tom grabs a slice of apple and eats it with exaggerated gusto so his son stops eyeing the fruit suspiciously and crams another two slices into his mouth.

He can see Hanna trying to glare at him but it doesn’t have a real edge to it.

He just may have thought about this idea for a bit. Alright, for quite a bit. Alright, alright, he’s been obsessed with the whole family dog idea for days and hatching a plan to convince Han. Because of course he knows his darling wife well enough to realize she’s going to put up a fight.

And so he’s chosen a day when she’s relaxed and in a good mood. And a place where his son will back him up. Tom feels a smidgeon of guilt but also a wee bit of smugness. Struggle is futile!

Before Han can argue again, he says, “Getting a dog would make all those afternoons in the park much nicer for you. You could rest your tired feet when sitting on the park bench while our dog plays with the children.”

Han knows what he’s doing. It’s not just Tom who knows how she works. She’s learnt quite a bit over the last couple of years as well.

Tom thinks she’ll be convinced, if three pairs of puppy dog eyes – yes, just because Vicky is taking a nap right now doesn’t mean she’s not about to unleash the full force of pouting – stare back at her.

“And how, dear husband of mine,” she starts, now standing as close to him as she can without having to crane her neck to look him in the face, “how will my feet become so tired? Because I’ve been running around all morning after your daughter and the dog. And then after your two children and the dog. Between that I’ll have walked the dog.”

“Well, I’m here as well.”

“ _You_  are the biggest child of all of them.”

They stare at each other, accompanied by the sound of Jamie biting and munching on the Apple slices.

Han almost keeps a straight face.

Tom blinks for a moment, and Han can almost hear the wheels in his brain turning, testing out reactions for their probable success.

He settles on a half-apologetic grin that instantly makes him look ten years younger and way too adorable for his own good.

“But isn’t that another reason to get a dog? Taking care of pets is supposed to teach children about responsibility from a very early age on. What better way to get me and the little Hiddlestons to grow up, hm? We’ll show the dog some love and learn, too.”

Han’s retort is interrupted by her son perking up at the mention. “Jamie,” he crows, pointing emphatically at himself. “Jamie LOVES dog.”

Tom’s smirk is infuriating (and infuriatingly cute).

“See? I bet Jamie would man up real fast and help take care of the dog. And I’m going to man up, as well.” Imitating his son’s squeaky earnestness, he thumps a fist against his chest. “Tommy LOVES dog.”

She’s trying. Oh god, she’s trying so hard. And it’s unfair, because Han doesn’t want to be the one who spoils the fun for everybody.

But she’s exhausted as it is.

“That’s good. Love is great. Love doesn’t walk the dog, though. Love doesn’t feed the dog.”

“Jamie loves dog! Dog, dog, dog, dog, love, love, love, love.”

Han can’t help but roll her eyes. Especially when Tom smiles at his son first and then at her.

“But we feed the dog. Promise. You know, I am a parent as well.” She knows. And he’s a great one. He’s simply not one for consequences. Or rules. Or always there.

“So, you’re here to help?” she asks and she can see how his smile becomes triumphant.

“Yep.”

“Jamie help too!”

Han smirks a little, and smiles at her son. “That’s great, Jamie.” And then she turns to Tom. “So, you’re here now. And before I know it, you’ll be in Australia and America and China. And then? Will Jamie take the dog to the nursery with him?”

Once again, she can see Tom’s brain cells whirring. She knows he’s smart–and persistent as hell, that stubborn adorable bastard–so she also knows she won’t have won the argument yet.

He snatches the last aple slice from Jamie’s plate and crunches on it thoughtfully before she can see his face light up in a ‘lightbulb moment’.

“Nonsense, love.” He grins widely. “I’ll take the dog with me. He’ll enjoy all the traveling, and there’ll be so many cute photos and delighted fangirls.”

Rolling her eyes hard, Hanna takes the empty plate to the sink while Jamie provides background music by crowing “dog” softly to himself.

“ _Ja klar_. Yeah, right, Thomas. Are you so sure they’ll allow your furry companion on set?”

Tom wrinkles his nose, clearly not ready to give up.

“I’ll have it trained as a therapy dog or something so it can always stay with me. Promise.”

Han stifles a snort and shoots him a look.

“Splendid idea. Do you want everyone to speculate you’re depressed, like a few years ago when you–gasp–dared to walk around in ratty clothes and a beard?”

Oh yeah, that was a strange time. Especially since they’d been so deep in marriage preparations and were actually getting married, that it almost felt as an insult to Han.

“I’ll make sure to laugh and smile at everyone this time around,” Tom says cheekily, making Han snort again. Is it strange that he loves her snorts?

“You’ll just look like a crazy person. Nobody smiles at everyone they meet.”

“Well, don’t tell me. I know.”

Han is finished with wiping the counter  _again_ and turns to him. “At least you got free therapy out of it. Over the internet, based on pictures.”

Tom strolls over to her, now grinning, and caging her with his two arms on the counter next to her hips. “Let me get a therapy dog?”

He tries with a pout again, and just when he sees – and hears – Han’s smile turn into a sigh, Jamie’s background music goes from ‘dog dog dog’ to “Jamie out now?”

“I’ll let you get your son and take him to wash his hands. With soap preferably and for longer than ten seconds, as he seems to think this ‘washing your hands’ thing works,” Han answers with a smirk, pecking his lips.

Tom groans, then turns to Jamie, – not before stealing another kiss from his wife – picking him up. “I was this close, little Hiddleston,” he says while picking on Jamie’s nose, making the boy squeal.

“Tis cloooose,” Jamie repeats.

And just as they leave the room for some much needed hand washing, because yes, Jamie seemingly got apples everywhere, Tom hears Han behind them. “You were  _not_  close.”

* * *

Shaking her head to herself but also grinning a little, Hanna walks into the room to check on Vicky. As usual, their daughter has excellent timing, as if an inner clock tells hers whenever it’s time to wake up from a nap and get ready for the park.

Cooing to her softly and smiling at her grizzling, Han gets her freshened up and forces her wiggling limbs into a pink jumper.

“Ready for the park, sweetie?”

Vicky circles her arms, crowing happily.

Hanna presses a kiss onto her head, stuffs a woolen hat into her pocket and remembers to grab the baby bag before walking out of the room.

Tom, holding onto Jamie’s hand, emerges a bit later, his sweater splashed with water but his son remarkably clean.

“Let’s go and play outside, mate!” Tom tells his son, then shoots a not-so-sneaky glance Han’s way. “At least we’ll get to look at other happy families with doggies, even if we can’t have our own, eh?”

“Low blow, Hiddleston,” she mouths at him, strapping Vicky into her stroller and ignoring his grin with an indignant sniff.

* * *

“Jamie wants doggie,” their son chants as he skips around, holding on to Tom’s hand, as Han pushes the stroller.

Of course, he phrases it like that. And of course, he looks so adorable with his scrunched up, but yet so determined look on his face.

Han hears Tom’s snicker and sees how Jamie proudly looks up at his father, a happy grin on his face.

“You taught him that,” she mumbles in Tom’s direction, then louder to Jamie, “You can look at all the little doggies in the park. The ones your Mama doesn’t have to clean up after.”

The pout on Jamie’s face is definitely in his Hiddleston-genes. But Han gets distracted by Vicky’s voice, coming from the stroller. “‘amie, dottie, ‘amie, dottie…”

Han groans while Tom tries to hide his laughter in a series of coughs. “I didn’t teach her that.”

“Didn’t teach her that, my ar…butt.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Tom leans in close enough to whisper into her ear, “Your butt what, love?” before giving said butt a tame little slap.

At her squeak, his grin grows, and he steps neatly away before she can swat him. Scooping Jamie up and lifting him to ride on his shoulders, he decides he’d give his wife a brief respite.

And so they walk the last few minutes to the park in amicable silence, punctured off and on by him or Han pointing at something and trying to teach Vicky how to say ‘tree’, ‘bird’ and ‘sky’. She's of course still too young to know and babble more than a few words but she always gets such attentive, big, round eyes that it makes his heart burst with love.

Unfortunately for Han, their son isn't aware of the truce. For as soon as he spots a huge, shaggy Labrador with his tongue lolling out not far away, he bounces on Tom’s shoulders.

“Jamie wants THIS dog.”

Uh-oh.

The growl she makes, almost scares Han herself. “Tom,” she says, and sees how her husband flinches. Good. “This. Is. Your. Fault.”

He looks at her all innocent and almost manages not to grin. Ass.

“Jamie,” Han tries next, voice sweet and calm, smile in place, while she rubs his leg to get his attention. When Jamie looks at her briefly – he’s still fascinated by the dog – Han continues. “You can’t have this dog. That one belongs to another family.”

He frowns. Of course, he does. He frowns, and Tom doesn’t do anything about it. “Want this dog,” Jamie answers, his voice so heartbroken, Han would steal the dog immediately and give it to him. She won’t, though she’s not quite sure about Tom.

“Jamie, baby, Mama means it. No dog for Jamie and no dog for your Papa.” Now, she starts using her Mama-voice and hopes that it helps. Probably not.

Tom’s snort doesn’t help either as Jamie asks, “Vi dog? Jamie helps.”

Oh for heck’s sake!

With her uncanny toddler’s ability to know when she’s talked about, her little daughter starts circling her chubby arms in the pram. “Viiiiiiii!”

“ _Wenigstens du könntest auf Mamas Seite sein_ ,” Han grumbles, then sighs and chucks Vicky under her chin. (At least you could be on Mom’s side.)

“No, Jamie, Vi can’t have a dog either. She’s too small.” She’s still using her Mama-voice and it’s still not helping.

Jamie puffs out his chest and straightens on his father’s shoulders. “Jamie not small. Jamie big. Doggie?”

Hanna is THIS close to wailing now–and apparently, Tom has decided he’ll show her a tiny bit of mercy, the smugly grinning bastard of a husband.

He does that twisty, mysterious move he’s perfect where he kind of collapses in on himself and slides his son over his shoulders right into his strong arms. It never fails to make Jamie shout with glee and Han grin goofily, though today’s grin is reluctant.

Holding the boy close, Tom gives him a serious look. “You sure are a big lad now but big lads don’t sulk and whine. They listen to their Mama. So let’s do that for a while and enjoy the park, okay? And if you’ve had enough of playing, I’ll call Uncle Chris and he can show you his doggie.”

“Unca Chris!” Jamie nods vigorously, grinning and momentarily pacified.

* * *

And so, they play. Interrupted by some nudges from Tom and excited squeals from Jamie and Vicky whenever they do see a dog.

But otherwise nobody says anything about dogs anymore, the grass in the park and the swings on the playground enough to keep them occupied.

Currently, both kids get all dirty – and hopefully tired – in the sandbox, while Tom and Han sit on the grass, sometimes calling out things like, “Don’t throw sand in your brother’s eyes.”

“You know I don’t want to be mean, right?” Tom says after a while, running his thumb over the back of Han’s hand between them, legs sprawled out in front of them.

It always calms Han, and this time it helps as well. She loves when Tom does that.

“You don’t want to, but you sure as hell are doing a great job,” she scoffs, but can’t be really mad. She knows how to be persistent as well whenever she wants something.

And it’s not like she would HATE having a dog at home, not per se.

They’ve talked about the possibility of a family dog, after all. They talk about everything.

The first time the idea popped up was during her first pregnancy when Tom had to leave her alone for a long time for shoots and wanted a furry friend by her side. Han convinced him that worrying about a puppy would only add to the stress, as tempted as she was for some cuddles.

They discussed it again after Jamie was born, at around the same time when Emma got her family an ultra-adorable Spaniel who stole everyone’s heart.

Han can’t suppress a grin when she remembers how many puppy photos and videos ended up on Tom’s phone, and it wasn’t even his own dog. But they found out about her second pregnancy at around that time and ditched the doggie plan.

She thought that was that–but she should’ve known better because Tom is stubborn as hell. So is she, though.

“What are you grinning about?” Tom asks after he’s studied her for a bit. She’s looking straight ahead at their children, not her usual soft smile on her face, but a grin in its place.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Han quips and looks over at him. Even after all these years, two children and not really that serious fight about a possible family dog, he’s in love with her smile.

Her entire face lights up with her smile, the eyes big, the nose a little scrunched up.

“I would like to know, Mrs Hiddleston. Is it me? It’s me, right?”

He should be offended by Han rolling her eyes, but he’s so used to it by now – and finds it so incredible cute – that he can’t help but grin back at her.

“Yes, because you’re getting on my nerves so much.”

“Not possible,” he mumbles and leans closer to her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m a little bit sorry,” Tom then murmurs into Han’s ear.

“For what?”

“The doggie thing.”

To Tom’s surprise – and then again, not to his surprise – Han bursts out laughing, then takes his face in her hands, eyes still sparkling with mirth. “Please, don’t say things like that in public. I know we’ll read about something like that in the news. ‘The Hiddlestons and their risky business at home’,” she grins and kisses him.

His own chuckle turns into a low moan when he feels Han’s tongue on his lips.

Looping an arm around her hip to pull her closer, Tom opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. When their tongues touch, it’s Hanna’s turn to moan softly.

He rubs small circles on her back, keeping the kiss slow and sensual although he knows they can go from 1 to 100 in a heartbeat. In all these years and with two kids, they’re still as attracted to each other as new lovers. It doesn’t even surprise them. Han is the one for him, so it should be this way.

Her hands begin to wander a bit, and just when Tom thinks he should maybe pull on the brakes before they do end up in the media with their PDA, they’re rudely interrupted by a heartfelt “eeeew” from their son.

Jerking guiltily apart like two teenagers caught necking, Tom suppresses a chuckle at the expression on Jamie’s face.

He can’t resist a tender jibe when Han blushes and grimaces. “See, if he had a dog to keep him distracted, we wouldn’t be interrupted.”

With a wink, he ducks out of the way when Han rears up to punch his bicep.

“Oh, you…”

With a huff and a half grin, she gets up and grabs Jamie’s hand.

“Want to build a sand castle?” At his joyful nodding, she walks off with him.

Han and Jamie meet Vicky along the way, walking – she mastered that some weeks ago – towards them. After she’s gotten a little tickle on the cheek from her Mama, the little girl proceeds on shaky legs towards Tom – a constant babble of ‘Dada Dada Dada’ making her intentions clear.

Han smiles. Yes, she’s been in love – loves – Tom for a while. But seeing how first Jamie and then Vicky adore their father just turns Han into an emotional mess and her love for Tom even more intense.

“Hey there, Vicky. You’ve done such a great job,” she can hear Tom behind her, as she sits down in the sand with Jamie, starting her preparations for the castle she knows will be destroyed by her son within minutes when he’s not in the mood for building anymore.

“Jamie help?” he asks, and Han nods.

“Of course, you have to help me. You’re so good at this.”

So, they continue for a few minutes, the voices of Tom and Vicky in the background.

“Mama, look, doggie,” Jamie says after a while, pointing at a small terrier. “Jamie doggie? Mama too?”

Damn it all. The worst part is, it slowly gets to her. So, scooping Jamie a little closer, trying to keep Tom from hearing, Han whispers, “Not at the moment, okay? We’ll see.”

Her family will be the death of her.


	2. Week Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is pouty after a little outburst from Han. But surely she can make him talk again?

One week after Tom’s initially thrown the idea of a dog at Han, the discussion comes to a screeching halt. So screeching that even now on a lazy Saturday morning Han doesn’t quite understand what exactly happened.

Well, that’s not true. She knows. Tom’s a pouty child, that’s what happened.

All week he’s been annoying, pestering her with constant teasing and keeping their children entertained with the idea of a dog.

Han’s had a busy week. Not just because of Tom and that stupid idea of that dog but also because the children have been particularly exhausting with no urge to sleep through the night but a constant urge to be entertained during the day.

So, when Tom couldn’t stop talking and annoying her yesterday evening, Han snapped.

“Just shut the fu…dge up! Stop talking for five minutes please. I just want peace and quiet. I just want to bring the children to bed and not listen to anything. I’m done with that stupid dog, and I don’t want to hear another word from you!”

Yes, she’s been a little harsh. But usually, whenever something like that happened, an apology was enough and a few calm and honest words calmed everyone down.

Well. Not this time. He hasn’t been talking to her. At all. Not since yesterday evening. And definitely not this morning.

Han’s rolled her eyes so hard in the last 12 hours, she’s surprised she hasn’t got a headache yet.

She sighs as she cleans the kitchen counter, listening in on the laughter from the living-room. Tom’s entertaining Jamie and Vicky, and her heart warms.

They’re a normal couple, despite all the non-normal things happening in their life. Couples fight, then make up. So do they. And after years of marriage, Han is used to a sulking spell or two, secretly always finding pouting Tom as adorable as she finds him infuriating.

But this time, it’s been lasting long enough to worry her. She didn’t even get the passive-aggressive behaviour he’s so good at, of banging doors and exaggarated sighs, unwashed plates and overly cautious approaches. He simply ignores her, keeping his mouth firmly shut.

With a sigh of her own, Han roots around in a cupboard and pulls out a tin with chocolate hobnobs. A little sugar bribery will surely work.

She arranges them on a plate and walks into the living-room, smiling automatically at the little scene of (almost) perfect, happy family. Say what you will about Tom acting sulky, but he’s never ever made their children feel a rift between them.

Pasting a determined but friendly look onto her face, Han announces “Cookies!”

She laughs at the shouts of “Yay!” (Jamie) and “Tooties!” (Vicky) as both toddlers run towards her, Jamie considerably faster than his sister with her still wobbly legs.

“One for each, please,” she says, already knowing Jamie and his tendency to grab a handful of cookies for himself.

And then she looks at Tom who – albeit smiling at his children – hasn’t moved yet. He’s not looking as if he’s about to, either. Really now, not even Hobnobs will help?

Refraining from rolling her eyes at him, Han puts the plate in the middle of the table, takes one hobnob and crouches down on eye level with Jamie.

“ _Schatz_ ,” she says, “Would you bring Papa a cookie, please?”

Proud with his task, Jamie nods and walks over to the place where Tom is sitting on the floor, while Vicky stays with Han, one tiny hand on her mother’s thigh and head snuggling against her upper arm.

“Papa, for you!” Jamie announces, but Tom shakes his head.

“No, thank you, buddy. I don’t want a cookie today.”

If Han wasn’t so annoyed with Tom, she would laugh out loud at the look of pure horror on Jamie’s face. He does know his daddy after all.

“But it’s a cookie!” their son announces, and this time Han can’t hold in her giggles.

He hasn’t thought this through, has he?

Tom stifles a sigh, wondering how to maneuver himself out of this cul-de-sac.

Alright, so maybe he’s being a bit of a dramatic diva and should stop sulking–hobnobs, for heaven’s sake, how’s he to resist?!–but he really does feel wounded.

He may have been a bit too persisstent and eager and pressing his wife when she already had her hands full, but he didn’t do anything bad per se. It hurt when she exploded at him like that, and so now he’s giving her the oh-so blessed silence she demanded.

Ignoring his watering mouth and his son’s comically shocked face, he tries to think of something to say.

“I know it’s a cookie, Jamie, my lad. But Papa doesn’t feel like having a cookie today.”

Now his son’s forehead scrunches up in distress. “Papa sick?”

Oh dear. Is that a soft snicker from Han? Tom ignores it, hoisting Jamie into his lap.

“No. I’m not sick, so there’s no need to worry. Maybe I’ll have a cookie later. Apparently, there’s a wrong time for some things.”

He shoots a glance at Han who rolls her eyes. When Jamie still looks confused, he ruffles his hair. “Just eat Papa’s cookie too, okay?”

That brings the smile back, and he watches in near agony as the hobnob meant for him is devoured.

He doesn’t even know what exactly he wants from Han. They’ve had fights before – of course they had – they’re both way too stubborn to not fight every now and then.

But she’s never been quite so harsh. And somehow he’s never been quite so hurt.

Okay, maybe if he talked to her, Han could apologise and then all would be fine. But she wanted him to shut up. So, here he is.

When Jamie’s done with the hobnob – Tom sees little traces of chocolate around his son’s lips, that almost make him want to break his silence and eat one as well – he walks back to Han, who by now is sitting on the floor with Vicky snuggled up in her lap.

“Daddy don’t wanna,” Jamie pouts and Han nods seriously, making Tom roll his eyes.

“I know, Jamie. And do you want to know why?”

Jamie nods eagerly, leaning against his mum as well. Although being his hurt little self, Tom actually is able to appreciate that picture in front of him. Han’s a great mother.

“It’s because your Papa is a  _beleidigte Leberwurst_.”

Wait a moment, wait a moment! He’s a what now? While his children and Han snicker, Tom tries desperately to find some sort of translation.  _Wurst_  is… sausage?! He’s quite sure he knows that from his first christmas with Han’s parents. But she didn’t call him a sausage just now, did she?

It takes all of his willpower not to ask her about ‘ _beleidigte Leberwurst_ ’, Han can see that plainly on Tom’s face. For all his acting skills–which she will admire for ever and for always–in real life his face is an open book. And right now, he looks confused, mildly offended, more than mildly sulky and as if his brain is whirring and tying itself into knots.

She presses another kiss to Vicky’s head, hiding her smug grin. Then she proceeds to gobble up a coule of hobnobs herselff, feeling his gaze on her for a moment.

Abruptly, Tom rises to his unfair height across the room, running a hand through his hair. He’s halfway out the door when Jamie pipies up. “Papa, where you going?”

Tom’s gaze flickers her way before landing on their son. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”

Huh. He’s been on his morning run today, of course. Escaping much?

Han folds her arms, knowing what’ll happe next.

“Jamie wanna come for a walk too.”

Yup, excited bouncing. He’s his father’s son alright.

“Walky-walky,” Vicky crowes from her lap, chocolate-covered hands flapping around ethusiastically.

Tom looks a bit panicky now, and she can almost hear him trying to find a way how he could take them but avoid asking her. Deciding to let him of the hook because a plan is forming in her mind, Han stands up with her sticky-fingered daughter in her arms.

“Oh, great idea. Why don’t you two walk off the cookie calories with Papa while Mama has a nice, relaxing bath and some mama time?”

Tom squints. There’s something fishy going on. Han’s planning something, he just knows it.

And he should also not think about what Han means by ‘mama time’ or a relaxing bath. Because there are images in his head that include a very naked Han enjoying herself.

Tom – hopefully subtly – adjusts himself and nods at Jamie. “We’ll enjoy some very appreciated time together. And we’ll talk as much as we want.”

He hears Hanna sigh but ignores it, even when she’s walking towards him and drops Vicky in his waiting arms.

“You figure out the children then, I’ll be in the kitchen,” his wife smirks as she kisses both of their children, standing close to Tom. Nice try. He’s immune basically.

“Mama and Papa kiss too.”

Well. That’s what you get for being a loving husband that kisses his wife goodbye all the time.

Han smirks up at him – again – and raises a challenging brow.

Kissing is not talking, right? He’ll just imagine he’s snogging an actress for a role and won’t even feel anything.

Trying hard not to inhale Han’s scent, Tom leans in for a quick peck on the mouth.

See, he can totally do this.

Only Han opens her lips beneath his, and is that her hand on his stomach?

The tiny groan is out before Tom can suppress it, and he notices the gleam of triumph in his wife’s eyes when he practically jumps back five feet and holds out his daughter like a shield.

God, isn’t a man allowed to sulk anymore?

Muttering to himself–which makes Vicky giggle and pat chocolate all over his neck–Tom leaves to wash her hands and get the children ready for the walk. Jamie is hopping along on one foot, already way too excited. Now if only they had a dog too, woofing and falling all over itself with joy if anyone so much as utters the word ‘walk’…

Pouting, Tom goes through the motions of getting ready. Half of his mind is occupied with wondering what on earth Han might be planning. Heaven help him, will she cook his favorite dinner? Bake a cake?? Wear something sexy after her bath???

He’s a dead man, he’s sure of it.

Han smirks to herself as Tom gets the kids ready and the leaves with a tiny huff but not much more. She’s got this. She’s basically winning already.

She guesses they’ll be out most of the morning with the weather being as beautiful as it can be in London – not too hot, not too chilly, no rain – and Tom trying to avoid her as much as possible. Plus, she just knows they’ll be going to the park watching dogs, plotting another strike against her.

* * *

So, with not having to rush a shower in under five minutes, Han indeed decides to take a long hot bath, do her eyebrows, make a face mask, and basically shave, shrub and clean everything there is.

With the children around – even with Tom at home – Han can’t shower without someone knocking on the door, someone wanting food or someone banging their head on some table.

After her long bath, Han decides to read a book for once and then starts on some cooking. Tom almost died from joy when he tried Han’s mother’s recipe for German goulash.

Han actually wanted to cook it for the Sunday roast. But an early favourite dish can’t be bad right? And Han suspects them not being back for awhile, giving her time to cook.

And she’s right. Because after almost two hours she gets a short text.  _We’re at Ben’s. He’s alone with the children and the kids wanted to play together._

Sure. It’s been the children’s idea. Not Tom trying to avoid her, and him and Ben being happy to grumble about their wives.

Han smirks. Great. More time for her plan.

* * *

Tom is almost afraid to return home in the evening, but he knows he’s being unreasonable.

Things will be fine in a bit. Though maybe not just now. He’s had time to talk with Ben and drown his sorrows in camaraderie and tea (and he’s defiantly eaten way too many hobnobs, which he then painstakingly had to explain to Jamie while Vicky got covered in chocolate goo again).

And now there’s back home, at the door. His daughter is asleep in her carrier, drooling adorably. Jamie is still a bundle of energy and proudly carrying an oddly folded piece of coloured paper that is supposed to resemble a dog.

Tom cringes. He didn’t even put his son up to this but Han will probably have a fit. Or perhaps she won’t? She had this odd glint in her eyes…

Juggling the children, he manages to open the door–and takes a step back when he’s assaulted by a mouth-watering smell he hasn’t expected at all.

Is that…Mama Engel's famous German goulash?

For heaven’s sake, he had no idea Han would fight THAT dirty!

Before Tom can stop him, Jamie shoots to the kitchen, jacket, hat and shoes still on. “Mama! Jamie hungwy!”

“Really now?” he hears his wife answer. “Didn’t you eat too much hobnobs at Uncle Ben’s?”

Tom cringes. Han knows. Of course she does. She knows everything.

“Noooo, Papa did!”

Now, he sighs. Yep. He raised little traitors. With a huff, Tom first takes off his own jacket and shoes before he bends down to remove Vicky first from her hat and then her tiny shoes.

She stirs a bit and then opens her eyes, blinking at him. Good, because she’s still got her baby food to eat and if she slept on, she would have been hell to get to bed later.

“Hey, Vic. How are you, little one?” Tom murmurs as he slowly takes her out of her carrier. With her head on Tom’s shoulder and her fingers on his neck and his chest, Tom walks his drowsy daughter to the kitchen.

Jamie – now sans jacket, shoes and hat, as the items all lie on his chair – hugs Han around her thigh, his thumb in his mouth as he smiles up at her. His mother leans against the kitchen counter, a glass of wine raised to her lips.

She’s got her eyes on Tom, the lips raised, smirking at him. “Welcome back, Tom. I cooked for us,” she says. In a voice that goes straight to Tom’s groin.

Her voice and her outfit. Tights and a dress she’s last worn for a night out. Not too short, but with a cleavage that doesn’t leave much to imagine. Her hair isn’t in a bun or ponytail but hangs loosely around her shoulders, her skin is glowing.

Tom swallows. Oh dear. Oh goodness. No.

Han feels like doing a little victorious dance around the room–but she’ll save the dancing for the right time.

Tom’s eyes are practically the size of saucers, his Adam’s apple is bobbing with convulsive swallows, and she can feel his gaze on her like a caress.

When she smiles and brushes a strand of hair back from her shoulder to expose more of her neck, Tom licks his lips and actually sways a tiny bit.

“I hope you’re very hungry,” she says, trying to make her voice a seductive purr and stressing the ‘hungry’.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Jamie is chanting, completely oblivious to the can-cut-it-with-a-knife tension in the air.

Tom just blinks and swallows, his eyes darting between the kitchen door and her, and she has to suppress a smirk.

Putting a sway into her hips and hoping she’s pulling this off correctly, Han approaches to take the wiggling Vicky and scoops her into her free arm, making sure she brushes her hand down Tom’s chest while doing so.

He seems to be holding his breath, probably so he won’t be lured by the food smell or her scent.

“Ready whenever you are,” Han says and turns to sashay away. When she risks a glance back over her shoulder, Tom’s gaze is glued to her butt.

Han: 1, Tom: 0!

* * *

Tom thinks the goulash tastes good. It’s just that he can’t actually confirm it. During dinner he mechanically puts food in his mouth, chews and swallows, but he’s too occupied staring at Han’s mouth and breasts to actually taste anything.

He’s at a point his brain doesn’t even actually know what’s going on anymore, or why he’s been mad.

But Tom is stubborn enough to pull the sulky, non-talking mood without knowing.

Han on her part has rarely ever eaten as lustful as she does tonight. Tom just knows that. With tiny – and not so tiny – moans whenever she tastes her meat and her licking her lips whenever there’s just a single drop of gravy on them.

The children happily munch and talk away. A fact Tom is glad about, because that’s the only thing keeping him sane right now.

And then suddenly his plate and wine glass are empty and Han stands up, taking Vicky out of her chair. He’s trying hard not to stare at Han’s body, but his still tightening pants tell him he’s not doing a great job.

“You can go play in the living-room, Jamie,” she announces while she puts Vicky down. “Don’t be too hard on Vicky, she can’t do everything you can do, yet.”

Aaaaaand the children run – well, Vicky stumbles – off just as Han gets the bottle of wine and pours a little bit more for the two of them.

“Not too much,” she whispers. “Want you coherent later, even if you’re still not talking to me.”

That’s when Tom chokes on a non-existent piece of meat.

She really IS out to kill him today. Multiple times, as it seems.

Tom guzzles a glass of water - nearly choking on that too when his suddenly so sultry wife leans over to pour wine in the other glass and he catches a nice eyeful of cleavage.

He’s always loved Han’s boobs, but ever since she’s a mother, they’re even more tempting and he could spend hours happily burying his face there to nuzzle and get his fill.

Down, boy.  _Not_ the thing he should be thinking when he’s already being murdered.

This is a dream he’s having, right? Today is much too surreal to actually be happening. It’s a trick of his guilty conscience. Any moment now he’ll wake up to find Han being slightly pissed that he’s sulking, and he’lll survive for some more hours before apologizing to her. Then they’ll talk things through and he’ll give her a break before he tries a different ‘puppy strategy’.

But it sure seems real. The way Han sits down opposite him and he can suddenly feel a foot stroke his calf while she takes a sip of wine only to lick a drop of the red liquid from her lips.

Fucking hell, dying would be easier than this!

“You know,” Han purrs, trying to make her voice low and heavy. She seems to succeed as Tom’s eyes dart from her mouth to her breasts and then to her face. She smiles. “You can just tell me, if you want me to stop. Or tell me, if you want me to do something else.”

She sees him swallow. She’s so on the right path.

And then suddenly her foot drops as well as Tom’s fork, and he’s up from the chair and away from the table so fast that it’s Han blinking owlishly now. Huh?

Tom obviously adjust himself, his cheeks tinted a little pink. Then, before Han can do anything, he’s out of the door and with the children.

“So, it’s gonna be time for stories soon. What do you want Papa to read?”

Aw. He thinks the children will safe him. How cute.

Okay. She’ll give him time for bedtime stories – not that she’d ever take that away from him and the children. They love it. – but then, then she’ll go in for the kill.

* * *

Tom leans over to press a kiss to Jamie’s forehead, listening to his son’s even breathing. He wishes he could read them another story but he’s no bloody coward and he also doesn’t want to use his children as an excuse. This time with them is holy. No matter what he feels or how busy he is or how Han and he stand, they’ve made a vow to be the best parents they can be, and they’re keeping it.

Tugging the duvet higher, Tom sets the book down on the bedside table and gets up. He rolls his neck but can’t ease the tension in his muscles.

Tiptoeing to the crib, he satisfies himself that Vicky is out cold too.

Then he walks out, closing the door softly. He considers padding into the kitchen and rescuing himself with another glass of wine but decides it would only make matters worse.

And so Tom takes a deep breath, braces himself, and opens their bedroom door.

He half-expected Han to have stripped or be wearing seductive lingerie to drive him out of his blessed mind. She isn’t, thank goodness.

But Han in that dress and with that gleam in her eyes is bad enough. He notices she’s dimmed the lights.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” she all but purrs, and Tom finds he can’t do any thinking of his own. “Since you’re still sulky, I thought I’d speak to you in a different language.”

Huh? Has all the blood really rushed south or why can’t he understand that? Does she mean she’ll talk to him in German now? Please not, he’s always found that way too sexy too.

Instead, she confuses him even more by sashaying over to the bedside table ad fumbling with her phone. Her back is to him, and Tom chokes on his own spit when she begins to sway and shimmy her butt and hips to the first tunes of low music.

This could be very embarrassing, because damn it all, Han can’t dance to save her life. But then again, Han doesn’t think there can be anything embarrassing in front of Tom anymore.

He’s seen her ill, vomiting, with children’s vomit in her hair, and singing and in almost every other scenario imaginable.

But dancing? Only ever with Tom or when there was a drink involved. None of that is about to happen now.

Instead, the first tunes of Ofenbach’s _Katchi_  start playing. She’s timed  _Be Mine_  to start playing right after, simply because Han’s not sure, if her dancing will be as seductive as she wants it to be. Surely, she needs more than those three minutes?

But that feeling disappears when she turns around and sees Tom’s eyes fixed on the spot where her butt was just seconds ago.

She smirks. Then, throwing all worries and possible embarrassment aside, she shakes her hips from left to right – hopefully – with the beat.

Han tries to make eye contact but Tom’s eyes are still on her body, so, she comes closer. Closer and closer still until she’s right in front of him and can feel the heat radiating from his body.

She leans close, still swaying and whispers, “So, since you wouldn’t talk to me. Think I can make you moan and whimper?”

Not even waiting for an answer, she moves back again a little and gets ready for the difficult part. Undressing.

* * *

Oh goodness.

No! Or rather, yes! But also no.

Tom forgets how to swallow. It’s all he can do to breathe–though maybe he shouldn’t because his wife is clearly out to torture him and a quick death sounds preferable right about now.

Rooted to the spot and gaping, Tom stares at Han’s gyrating hips and long legs. He doesn’t even really hear the song, he’s too busy ogling like a teenager who’s about to catch his first glimpse of naked boobs.

Speaking of boobs…now Han is shimmying her shoulders and shaking her hair out, and her breasts move hypnotically.

He wants his hands on them. His beard. His mouth.

But he SO shouldn’t. And he can’t even open his mouth to protest, not that he’d be able to form actual words.

Lord help him, why did she have to chose seduction by dance??? It’s so rare that she tries some real dancing, and he’s pretty sure she’s never been that tempting before.

With a finger, Han slides the dress strap from a shoulder, and Tom snaps his mouth shut so he can bite his lip and keep traitorous sounds from slipping out.

Not for long, though, because the next thing that Tom registers is Han pressing both arms in front of her, doing some kind of shimmy which makes the straps slide down her arms while her breasts are pressed together.

Maybe she didn’t hear that whimper that left him?

Tom doesn’t know where to look, but he doesn’t know how to avert his eyes either. So, he keeps staring.

The dress is now pooling at Han’s feet, and Tom finds that tights are way sexier than he’s used to, and he doesn’t know that bra.

Tom tries to take a deep breath, but still feels like fainting. Especially now when Han walks over to him with a smirk and in tune with the music. Stopping right in front of him, she turns, her back to his front.

And then – Tom swallows – she pulls down the tights in one swift move and bends down so that her very nice butt is pressed to his front.

This time he is certain she’s heard his moan.

This seems to be working.

Emboldened by a low moan she’s heard over the sound of the music, Han bites the inside of her cheek so a victorious grin won’t ruin her hopefully sultry expression.

She turns around, taking extra care to brush against Tom while doing so. Fluttering her lashes, she leans closer to ask, “Did you just say something?”

His gaze drops to her cleavage for a second before he snaps it back up. A muscle in his jaw is ticking as he shakes his head.

“Hm, odd.” She rubs a finger across her lips, watching him watch her. “I thought I heard something. Ah well, looks like I’ll have to put more effort into this then.”

Han catches a slightly panicky widening of his eyes and holds back another snicker. She steps back a few paces, swaying her hips before reaching for her bra clasp.

Well, this is fun for some at least, Tom thinks as he sees a small grin form on Han’s lips. Okay, it’s not like he’s not enjoying this. He would on any other day. But he’s stubborn today, and this is torture.

Especially as Han starts to remove her bra now. Tom almost wants to shout out – he’s not sure what – but decides to shut his mouth instead. He feels like fainting.

Maybe he even does, because he definitely needs a steadying grip on the dresser next to him.

She’s gorgeous, her breasts are too, and Tom almost swallows his tongue when Han makes her hair fly around her head, sways some more and then stands in front of him with just her panties.

He doesn’t know where to look first. Boobs? Legs? Maybe her panties? He whimpers and doesn’t care a bit.

And Han grins some more before coming closer again. She’s hot, and something in Tom’s pants gets warmer too.

“Do you need to sit down?” she asks, then winks and takes his hand, the touch almost too much as Tom bites his lips and makes a fist to stop reaching out and pressing her against him.

She leads him to the bed, and all Tom can do is sit and stare.

She practically has him eating out of her palm, doesn’t she?

Han wants to gloat but realizes that this goes two ways. She’s just as turned on as Tom is, judging by the bulge tenting his jeans as he sits with his legs spread a mile. Seducing him ultimately means she’s getting herself all hot and bothered too. But she’s afraid to get her hopes up–even though something else definitely is ‘up’ and ready to play. What if he’s so stubborn that he’ll pull the brakes in a bit?

Biting her lip, Han moves closer and murmurs, “You’re far too dressed, Mr. Hiddleston.”

She hopes he’ll reply and use “Mrs. Hiddleston”, something that still turns her on after years of marriage.

But he remainds mute, his pupils dilated with want and his eyes glued to her boobs.

Emboldened, she begins unbuttoning his shirt and brushing it off his shoulders and arms, her breasts tantalizingly close to his mouth.

The ‘click’ of Tom swallowing convulsively is audible in the brief silence before the next song starts playing. God, she wants his mouth on her–even more so when he licks his lips.

But something is holding Han back. Consent. Tom is always making sure of hers, no matter how heated things get between them, and he deserves the same. She needs to know it’s not just his body that desires her.

“Ready for more, Tom? Do you really want this? Want me?”

His gaze finally leaves her cleavage to snap up to her face. It holds hers for a long moment before he gives a single nod. Still not speaking, he confirms his consent with his huge hands on her hips, tugging her closer to stand between his thighs.

Okay, Tom thinks. So, maybe this is fun after all. Torture, but fun.

If he’s honest with himself – and Han – he’s known Hanna wouldn’t budge from the beginning, and this would be her victory and his loss.

Is he losing, though? Because yes, he’s now got Han where she fits perfectly, running his fingers over the smooth skin of her hips, aching to touch her nipples with his mouth, and it looks like she’s got him where she wants too.

But he’s still not talking. And he won’t. He can do lots of things without talking after all.

He smirks, pulling Han a little closer, seeing rather than hearing how her breathing hitches. But before he can put his mouth to good use on her breasts, Han pushes herself away a little, and Tom suppresses a whimper.

“No, Mr. Hiddleston. If you want to play by your rules, you need to tell me,” she smirk. She gives him a moment, obviously time for him to say something, but Tom decides to just stare back. “Okay, then. My rules. No touching until I tell you to.”

There was a slight pause in her speech, and Tom can see how turned on Han is as well. Her skin is slightly pink and her pupils dilated as her body gravitates towards his.

But when she pushes him a bit to make him lie down on the bed, Tom does. Because yes, this is still torture, but he wonders what she’s got in mind.

Most of the time, Tom is the dominant one in their sexual relationship, though they’re by no means dom and sub. But every once in a while, when Han feels like it, she takes over the reigns.

Today felt like a good time to snatch back some control, no matter how momentary. And like everytime this happens, it’s a huge turn-on how willingly Tom lets her have the upper hand.

Feeling herself throb between her thighs, Han takes a moment to breathe.

She does’t even have a real idea what she wants to do now. The goal was to seduce him without havig Tom run a mile or sulk even more. Now that she has him where she wants him and he’s given his consent, the possibilities seem endless.

Well, time to get some sounds out of this stubborn idiot she loves to call her husband…

Instead of touching him, which he probably expected, Han begins to smooth her hands slowly over her own body. She lets them drift down her not-so-flat-anymore belly, then circles back up to cradle her breasts, almost like an offering for Tom.

Yup, that’s another whimper.

“It’s a pity you’re sulking,” she purrs, her breath hitching when her own fingers brush over her hardening nipples. “Otherwise these could be your hands, touching me, pleasing me.”

She bats her lashes at Tom, noticing another convulsive swallow. “Maybe you’d like to beg?”

She knows Tom’s stubborn but today he’s even surprising her a bit. Because he’s one for seduction, but he’s choosing to be defiant it seems. Because instead of moving or indeed begging, he shakes his head once.

“Okay, then.” Han manages to keep her voice steady. And she’s torn between wanting to touch him and wanting to touch herself. She also wants to see him break. A little bit, at least.

So, instead of staying between his thighs and leaning closer, Han takes a little step back, watching with glee how Tom’s brows furrow a bit, his lips turning into a frown.

That’s when Han circles her nipples again, suppressing a whimper of her own. But she doesn’t stay there, her hands travel further down again instead.

She watches how Tom’s eyes follow her hands, this time she doesn’t stop at her belly. Taking a deep breath as she sees her husband licking his lips, her fingers dip inside her panties.

She closes her eyes for a moment and doesn’t stifle a moan when she touches herself. When she opens her eyes again, she grins at Tom and at the way he bites his lips. He’s pulled himself up on his elbows by now to watch her better.

“Do you still not want to join me?” Han asks as she circles her hips, rubbing herself a little more. “Or want me to join you?”

He wants both. Desperately.

But he also wants her to have the reins for a little longer. His wife is always sexy, but something about her having him where she wants him and not ashamed of her own need makes her appeal skyrocket.

And so Tom digs deep into his acting skills to steel his resolve. He shuts his mouth and shrugs, then shakes his head once.

There’s a miniscule frown on Han’s flushed face, and then the look in her eyes says the war is on.

“No? Maybe you need more…stimulation?”

Tom almost swallows his own tongue when Han shimmies out of her panties, taking great care to bend over and all but dangle her boobs in front of his face. He’s THIS close to latching onto a nipple, but something holds him back, poised on his elbows and starving.

Deliberately, Han widens her stance just a bit, and he can see her glisten invitingly.

Fucking fuck, this is heaven and hell rolled into one. When her fingers return to her folds, sliding and teasing to another moan, Tom forgets how to breathe.

Lord help him, he can smell her desire for him.

“Tom,” Han all but moans next. And it isn’t because she’s trying to tease him. Well, not only because she’s trying to tease him. It’s because she genuinely can’t hold it back anymore.

Her fingers circle and it’s all that she can do to keep her eyes open and watch Tom. His eyes are fixed on her fingers, and she can see a light sheen of sweat form on his forehead.

“Are you still sure?”

He nods again. Almost desperately now.

“But you can see just how  _fucking_  ready I am for you, can’t you?” When her breathing hitches on the last words, it earns her another low whimper from Tom. Paired with her another heavy swallow.

Han’s fingers can’t seem to stop, and she thinks that maybe this is the way to go. Enjoying herself and teasing Tom at the same time.

So, she finds her little bud and circles it, releasing a shuddering breath at the same time. It’s almost getting too much already, mostly because Tom doesn’t change his position but watches on.

“You know,” she whispers, not sure if Tom can hear her or even listens. “I can easily finish this here. All by myself.”

Han still moves in time with the music that’s playing now, but it’s unconsciously. Her hips move, her fingers tease. Tom doesn’t seem to mind.

She’s killing him. One’s dead if one can’t breathe, right?

Tom feels a bit lightheaded too, his hands clutching at the sheet with a white-knuckled grip. When he does pull in a desperate breath, it mixes with a greedy moan.

As if the sound turns Han on even more, her fingers move faster, drenched in her own arousal.

Tom has watched her pleasure herself once before, years ago when they were being experimental in–and out–of bed. He’s forgotten how powerful of a sensation it is. Or maybe it’s because this time he can’t encourage her with dirty whispers?

With a whimper and her free hand clamped over her mouth to keep something louder from escaping, his gorgeous wife turned sultry seductress climaxes, and Tom nearly comes too.

Oh, fuck it all!

His restraint breaking, he pushes himself closer, grabs Han’s hips and drags her to his face. Perhaps he can make her come again like this? With a low groan, he buries his mouth deep, lapping and licking and circling and sucking.

Fuck.

That’s all Han can think of, and if she’s honest – and she is – she’s surprised that she can think of anything at all.

She’s still a shaking, quivering mess, still seeing stars and now she’s a sweaty, moaning woman held strongly by her husband.

“Tom,” she groans, hoping they don’t wake up the children like this. Though, she’s not caring too much about that either.

He just moans in response and that sensation sends shivers through her still high-strung body. He’s still not really talking, though she couldn’t possibly handle that right now.

And then Tom’s movements intensify and he’s holding stronger on to her and Han can feel his muscle straining, almost as if he wants to do much more but holds back.

And then Han doesn’t think about anything anymore and just feels waves of pleasure ripping through her as her hands tighten in Tom’s hair, gripping hard.

Han almost collapses, but Tom’s there and she lets herself be dragged on top of him, panting and moaning and breathing hard.

Through the haze of her second climax, she feels Tom straining against her core. But he’s still way too clothed and he’s still not talking.

“I need you,” she breathes and when Tom looks up at her, she kisses him, hard and long.

_That went well_ , is the last coherent thought Tom is capable of before he feels the weight of his trembling, luscious wife on top of him. Instead of collapsing in bliss, though, she somehow manages to kiss his last remnants of sanity and control out the window.

Tom knows she can taste herself on him, but Han doesn’t seem to mind one bit. She’s grinding against the bulge in his trousers and clawing at his body, and it’s all he can do to be part of the kiss.

He’s unleashed a wild cat, hasn’t he? And he’s got a feeling he’ll indeed be scratched rough a little.

No objections from him there.

He needs Han as desperately as she needs him, and staying silent–well, at least not speaking actual words–is more and more difficult.

Rolling so Han is on her back on the bed, Tom brushes her frantically fumbling hands away to get rid of his clothes.

And then he almost comes right then and there, because as soon as his trousers and boxer shorts are down, Han grabs for him.

First, for his arse, digging her nails in and pushing him closer. And then suddenly she’s got one hand around his penis, rubbing up and down.

It causes the first uttered word – “Fuck.” – to leave his mouth, and Tom almost rolls his eyes at the triumphant grin on Han’s face.

And then his eyes roll inside his head all on their own, because Han’s grip tightens on him. “Fuck, indeed,” she whispers at him and moves her hips up to get closer. The friction alone almost brings Tom to his end.

Han lets go just to claw on Tom’s shoulders and dig her fingers in. Yup. Scratch marks.

All they do is frantic kissing right now. That and heavy breathing and touching everything they can reach, both with their mouths and hands.

And then the friction gets too much as Han circles her hips up again, and Tom enters her. And stops. If he moves now, it’ll all be over way too soon. So, his mouth goes for her nipples again, something he’s wanted to do all evening.

All thoughts of seduction are gone from Han’s mind. She can’t think anything at all anymore, only feel.

Tom seems to be everywhere at once, all hands and nipping teeth and licking tongue…and deep, deep inside her but not moving.

Movement, she needs movement.

But the reins seem to be with him now because one big hand holds her circling hip down firmly as a groan vibrates through her breast, Tom’s mouth still clamped around a sensitive nipple.

Why won’t he fucking move?

Han can’t even enjoy her victory a bit more that he has finally broken the silence because he’s so hard and big and feels so right inside her - and she needs him to move RIGHT NOW because she’s  _this_ close to combusting.

She bucks, which earns her a bite, and now she’s the one cursing, interspersed with begging.

Han tightens around him instinctively as the slight pain from her nipple unfurls into white-hot pleasure, and Tom shudders and whimpers.

And then he’s finally moving.

He’s not just moving, he’s chasing. Her release and his own as well. But first hers. They don’t usually count who’s giving the other the most pleasure, but somehow Tom feels like he’s got to make up for something.

Not that he can actually feel much more than Han clenching and vibrating around him, so tight, he’s torn between moving and just staying right there.

But then the feeling in his belly changes and everything tightens inside him. His mouth moves from Han’s breast in favour of claiming her lips with his. At the same time, his fingers find Han’s clit again, because damn it, if he can’t make her come once more than she did for herself.

She’s groaning his name, probably cursing his name as well, and when Han shudders around him and bites his lip – hard – Tom sees stars, momentarily forgets how to breathe – can’t breathe – and then lets go with a moan and another muttered “Fu-huck” that pairs with Han’s “oh god"s.

It takes both of them quite a while to come down. And calm down, sort of.

Han blinks blearily, reluctant to untangle their limbs. Her motherly ear is on alert but it seems like they haven’t woken their children. Thank god for small mercies. She couldn’t possibly get her liquefied body to work just now.

Tom has taken some of his weight off her, his laboured breathing hitting her neck in puffs. She’s too blissed out to celebrate her ‘victory’–two victories, actually: successful seduction and Tom (kind of) said something.

“Love you,” she hears a raspy whisper.

She’d like to call out a mock-triumphant “it speaks!” but replies with an equaly out-of-breath and heartfelt “love you too” instead.

Han feels Tom shift, and his face comes into focus, a tiny crease between his brows as he asks, “Tell me now what ‘ _leidig_ …uh… _Lebwurst_ ’ means?”

A sound between a chuckle and a groan leaves her. Han raises a lazy arm to brush Tom’s brow with her index finger.

“Please tell me you didn’t think of that the entire time just now?” she laughs. “Do we have to do this again to stop you from thinking about what a  _beleidigte Leberwurst_  is?”

He rolls his eyes at her, but with a smile on his lips, leaning in a little to nip at Han’s. And she knows everything is just fine. “We can do this anytime,” he whispers, and then stops for a moment. “When I can breathe again.”

Yes. That’s a good idea. Breathing. Snuggling. Sleeping.

“And now, tell me,” Tom whines.

“Do you want the literal meaning?  _Offended Liver sausage._ ”

She buries her face in Tom’s chest in order to silence her snort. Her husband’s never looked more offended than now.

“What the fuck, woman?” Her body shakes as she tries to hold in her laughter. His voice is almost better than his face. “How do you Germans treat each other?” But Han can hear the humour in Tom’s voice as he still holds her body close.

“It’s the Germans saying for ‘He’s in a huff’.”

“But… why? What do sausages have to do with that? It’s because you Germans are crazy about sausages, right?”

They shift a little, both groaning a bit when they finally – or too early? – part. Tom’s on his back, Han snuggling in with her head on his chest, almost being lulled to sleep by his soft strokes in her hair.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me now. Tell me about that sausage thing.”

“Okay. Well,” she shifts a little, a tiny yawn escaping her. “The people thought that the liver was the place the people had their feelings, right? So that it can actually get angry or offended. Or, well, we can when something’s amiss with it. And then there was the story that a cook took the sausages out of the cooking water and left one in. And that liver sausage was the offended one.”

“You’re crazy,” Tom mumbles, his fingers now trailing circles on her back. “I don’t even know why I’m with you. Crazy person. And also, I obviously wasn’t in a huff."


	3. Five Is A Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to get a family dog. And for Han to take care of a sleepy Tom.

Han shifts in the car seat, experiencing the first frisson of anticipation, mixed with a teensy bit of anxiety. It somehow reminds her a bit of that scene in  _Only Lovers Left Alive_  that always makes her cackle gleefully. The one where Ava pesters Adam to take them out and he flat-out refuses with “No, Adam is NOT going to take you out”…only to be seen with them in a club moments later.

She doesn’t feel like cackling gleefully now. But she doesn’t feel grumpy either, to be honest. It took Tom and their children quite some cajoling, sulking and hilariously ingenious scheming but now she’s ready to give the Hiddleston Doggie Project a try.

“Last chance to change your mind, love.”

Tom’s voice jostles her out of her thoughts and she sends him a–hopefully cheerful more than brave–smile as he takes the turn that will bring them to the animal shelter.

“I’m not going back on my word,” she says. It’s not as if she’s being forced to this. She’s realized the last week when Tom was off to a Con in America that it might actually not be such a bad idea to have a furry friend for Little Hiddleston Volume 1 and 2.

So here they are, ready to find a suitable dog. Jamie and wee Vicky are at Emma’s because Tom wisely decided that having two overly eager children around loads of cute pets isn’t a good idea. The plan is to adopt a dog and get it settled at home before the kids return this evening.

One hand on the steering wheel, Tom reaches over, claps one of her hands and presses a kiss to her palm.

“Have I told you how incredibly happy your decision makes me?”

He manages to smoulder at her before focusing on the road, and Han shifts for an entirely different reason now.

“Only about a dozen times,” she jokes, remembering how bouncy and bright-eyed he’s been since yesterday when she let him know…and how enthusiastically he ‘thanked’ her.

Tom grins, parking the car.

Whelp, they’re so going to do this.

She studies him for a moment longer. He’s tired. The last week’s thrown him off a bit. What has always been one or two extra days in whatever location he’s been for interviews, has now become a flight there, interviews or cons feeling jetlagged, calls or FaceTime home, and then flying back only to have a much bigger jetlag then.

And this time he hasn’t really crashed, because there are the children who demand his attention as well. And a dog now, it seems.

It only makes Han love him a little bit more each time, but she worries as well.

Right now, though, he looks just as awake and giddy as any puppy they could possibly find.

“Let’s do this then,” Tom grins, squeezes her hand once more, and jumps out of the car.

With a chuckle on her own, Han follows. “Let’s do this.”

They meet in front of the car, holding hands, and make the short way to the entrance together.

“And please remember, no puppy,” Han adds, once more and just for good measure. She pretends she doesn’t see the grin on Tom’s face or the way he almost can’t hide his eye-roll. “I really don’t have the time to train a puppy.”

“I know…” He looks like he wants to say something more, but loud barking from inside and a female voice interrupt him.

“Hello and welcome!” Han and Tom both turn away from the door to smile at the rather short woman walking from another building over to them. “How can I help you?”

“We’re looking for a dog,” Tom states so proudly, Han is barely able to hold in a snicker.

She isn’t sure whether the woman from the shelter recognizes Tom but she sneaks a glance at the car and seems to all but smell the money. Suddenly she’s even friendlier and starts talking rapid-fire about all sorts of dogs and equipment to go with it. Oh dear. Tom is so going to order gifts and other what-nots for the dog too.

She can’t even really blame the lady. After all, shelters need all the money they can get. Han loves Tom for his suggestion not to approach a breeder. Adopting instead of shopping is just what she wants too. If they end up with a mixed mongrel looking like a ragged mop, so be it. If it’s going to be a purebred, that’s also fine. Just not a puppy, even though Han knows she’ll fall head over heels in love with whatever little ones might be sheltered here.

They make their way into the building, Tom listening raptly to the woman. But his famed listening ability goes down the drain as soon as they pass the first animals. It’s all sorts of cats, and in the blink of an eye, Tom is gravitating towards the fur balls. Somehow, they’re all gravitating towards him too. Hah, the famous Hiddleston effect. Not even cats can resist him.

Han rolls her eyes and walks over to her bright-eyed husband who’s currently making a chubby tabby cat purr like a running engine while scratching under its chin.

Leaning close, she murmurs, “Ever the pussy magnet, hm, Hiddleston?”

She gets a choked sound and a blushing face turned towards her and smirks. “We are NOT getting a cat too.”

Tom chuckles and steps back with a nod. “I know, I know. Drag me away to safety, love?”

He holds out his arm and Han loops hers through it to literally haul him down the corridor.

Tom can’t help himself. He loves animals, and he knows Han does too. He’d take them all home and give them a better life if he could. And if Han would allow it.

“So, what are you looking for then?” the nice lady from the shelter asks as they stop in front of a big door. The area behind it seems to house the dogs as Tom can hear the barking behind it. He’s nervous somehow.

And he also loves Han for giving this a chance. He was running out of ideas to persuade her actually, so he’s glad she’s caved. Though, Tom knows his wife. They wouldn’t be doing this, if she didn’t want a dog herself.

“Not a puppy,” is Han’s reply that takes Tom back to the present. She sends him a long look and he tries to look sheepish. By her little huff he knows he’s succeeded. “We’ve already got two toddlers and this one–,” she points at him, “–at home.”

Tom asks himself, if he should be offended, but he can’t deny that she’s right. He can get a little over enthusiastic sometimes.

The shelter-lady chuckles along. “Okay, I totally understand. We’re definitely looking for a family dog then. Shall we meet some of them?”

Now, Tom’s not the only one being a bit bouncy. “Yes, please,” they say in unison.

And then the doors open, and Tom knows it’s been a good decision to leave the children Emma’s. Eager dogs are ready to greet them it seems. Goodness, they’ll have to adopt 20, won’t they?

He feels Han take and squeeze his hand, which makes him look away from the dogs and towards her for a moment.

“I want them all,” she whispers with shiny eyes.

“Well…”

The “No, Hiddleston,” is accompanied by a slap on his biceps. He chuckles and then looks around. Where to start?

Tom looks his fill, feeling like a kid on Christmas–and admitted, every Christmas turns him into a kid, so there’s that–as they stroll around.

The lovely lady from the shelter is telling them about each dog they pass, stats like age and character and what would make him or her a good family dog. There’s a lot of tail wagging, some lolling tongues, quite some barking, and various attempts at breaking out and/or enticing the new humans to play.

God, how is he supposed to decide?

Han has long let go of him, cooing over two cocker spaniel puppies with endlessly long ears. “No puppies, love,” he calls out to her with a gleeful grin, hearing her huff as she tears herself away from the adorable pups.

There seems to be every shade and size of dog in here, from something that resembles a fuzzy rat to a gently snoring giant with slobber all over his impressive jaw.

And then Tom spots a heap of fluffy sand-coloured fur in a corner. As they approach, the dog lifts its head from its paws and fixes him in a stare so soulful he feels his heart ache. Where all the other animals show some sign of excitement–and one or two of them fear–this one sits up and moves his ears, continuing to simply stare at Tom as if he’s been waiting for him all along.

“This one,” Tom hears himself say. “Tell me more about this dog.”

Han knows the sound in Tom’s voice. He’s fallen head over heels in love right in this moment.

She turns around from where she’s been looking at an excited dachshund and walks over to her husband. He’s crouched down by now, so Han does as well.

There on the other side of the room is a Golden Retriever, tilting its head as it’s apparently in some kind of stare-off with Tom. It’s adorable. The dog, though Tom’s got heart eyes as well.

“This is Buddy,” the woman from the shelter says from next to them. “Golden Retriever, as you can see, and seven years old. He’s been here as a puppy before, he was found with his brothers and sisters at a motorway station.” Han feels her heart shatter, and next to her she hears Tom sighing softly. “A lovely elderly couple adopted him.” Now, the lady is sighing. “The woman died two years ago, the man four months ago. No children, nowhere to put Buddy but here.”

Han swallows and hears Tom do the same. “Oh, that poor thing,” she whispers.

“He’s a very calm dog. As you can see, he’s not bothered by anything. No matter how much barking there is, he’s keeping his cool. The dog walkers take a route through the park regularly, he’s not bothered by the playgrounds at all.”

Tom squeezes Han’s hand, and she knows he’s done for. “Can we get a closer look?” There, she knew it.

“Of course!”

She opens the door with her key, and Buddy’s ears pick up, his whole body following. His tail starts to wag, and he comes closer.

The hold on Han’s hand gets stronger. “Han?” Tom whispers.

“Yeah, I know.”

Tom hears Han ask some more questions, all important but somehow not really penetrating his emotion-addled brain. He dimly registers talk about the life expectancy of the dog, whether it has any sicknesses, how they should care for it daily.

But all he can focus on is the soulful look in the docile animal’s eyes. Simultaneously starved for affection and hopeful and kind. Tom leans closer and slowly reaches a hand between the grills.

“Hey there, Buddy. Would you like to come home with us and be a fluffy big brother to Little Hiddleston Volume 1 and 2?” he asks, taking care to keep his voice soft and his hand still.

The golden retriever instantly perks up at the cooing words and sniffs his fingers. A big, pink tongue lolls out and licks Tom’s hand, which makes him chuckle.

“I guess that’s a yes?”

Tom hears Han go “aaawww” next to him.

The dog gives one joyful, huffy ‘woof’ as if to say yes.

“So that’s settled then, hm?” Han leans against Tom, once again looping her arm through his, and right at this moment, he’s so full of love for everything that he thinks he’ll burst.

* * *

Buddy doesn’t have any illnesses. The vet checks in on him and the other animals every few months, so it’s safe to say that he’s a healthy dog.

No medication is needed. Tom and Han have picked up a few essentials for a dog before they even went to the shelter. Han is sure there’s more to come, she can see the pure love for the dog in Tom’s eyes already.

People from the shelter are going to check in on them in a few weeks to see how they’re doing as a new family.

Now they’re standing in front of the door, keys in the lock, but not yet opened by Tom. Han has Buddy on the leash, the dog sitting in the middle.

She could almost get jealous of the look Tom is giving Buddy – Han’s sure it’s the same look she got all those years ago.

“Ready?” Tom asks.

“Ready.”

Han wants to laugh at the face Tom makes. She can’t be certain what exactly her husband expected to happen, but it certainly wasn’t Buddy simply tilting his head.

“Sorry,” she snorts as Tom pouts. “Maybe we need to just get in. He’ll be curious soon enough I think.”

So that’s what they do. Walk in with Buddy on the leash, before Han lets go of him. They’ve left the doors to all the rooms open before they went, so now the hall’s bright, and inviting.

When Buddy starts sniffing, Tom comes to stand behind Han, his arms circling her waist.

“Thank you for this,” he whispers, before pressing a kiss on top of her head.

“You’re welcome,” she chuckles back, and can’t help but let out a little sigh when Buddy sniffs the shoes. “You’re going to teach him that they’re off-limits.”

Tom tears his eyes of the busily exploring dog to quirk a brow at Han.

“I’m going, is it? And what about you?”

She grins cheekily at him, which always makes him want to kiss her senseless, even after years of marriage.

“Why, I’ll spoil him rotten, of course. There’s got to be a clear distinction between the roles in the household for the dog to comprehend.”

Tom’s chuckle ends in a snort. “You read that somewhere, right?”

Her grin widens. “Aren’t you usually the one who reads pages and pages on a subject once you’re even marginally interested in it?”

He can’t argue with that so he holds up his hands, keeping an eye on Buddy, whose sniffing is growing more enthusiastic by the minute.

“I may have read up a bit on dogs too,” Han admits. “Had to know what to prepare myself for once you  _Sturkopf_ got it into your stubborn head that we need to adopt a furry child.”

Tom hugs her close, once again struck by joy. “You won’t regret it, I promise. I’ll do all the teaching you want me to.”

Their newcomer chooses that exact moment to lift his hind leg tentatively, dangerously close to their sofa.

His hands leave her as Han hears Tom’s almost shout of “Buddy, no!”. He moves closer to the dog. “Come on, mate, you can’t do this to me.”

Han snickers. It’s hard to tell at this point who looks more surprised. Buddy, who’s lowered his leg at Tom’s shout and is now tilting his head again, or Tom, who stands in the middle of their living-room now, staring at the dog, before he looks back at Han.

“Uhm,” he starts, and actually looks flabbergasted by the turn of events. “How did I do that?”

Han smirks. “You used your bedroom voice.” Seeing Tom blush makes her grin some more.

“I don’t… I… huh?”

“Your bedroom voice. All authoritative. Not panicky, but firmly. Makes us all want to please you.”

Tom snorts, blushes some more, and then turns to the new Hiddleston. “I’ll let this one out in the garden then,” he says, obviously trying to change the subject. Sometimes he can be quite cute, Han has to admit.

Tom walks towards their door that leads to the porch and eventually the garden. “Come on, Buddy.” He opens the door for the dog, who barks and runs out, sniffing everywhere and actually doing his business – right by the flowers.

This time it’s Han walking up to Tom, sneaking her arms around his waist from behind. “At least it’s not the sofa, huh?” she asks.

“We’ll get there. He’s a clever one, I’m sure. Maybe he can teach the non-furry little Hiddlestons to listen to us as well.”

Han chuckles and squeezes Tom’s waist. “As long as you don’t use your bedroom voice,” she mumbles against him, and feels Tom’s body shake with silent laughter.

“Stop it, I need to concentrate on the dog.”

* * *

Three hours later, Tom turns the car into the driveway.

He made the mistake of telling Little Hiddleston Volume 1 and 2 that a surprise is waiting for them at home, and the drive here has been rather hellish, though it’s also made him laugh (and appreciate Han’s patience with his enthusiasm more). It’s been a constant litany of “but what is it?”, “when are we home?”, “are we home yet?”, “ _Papaaaa_ , what iiiiis iiiit?”, and wild guesses. Jamie did most of the talking, wee Vicky adding encouraging comments and banging her fist against the seat to demand their arrival at home NOW.

Han’s stayed back home to make sure that Buddy settles in well, and he’s given her a call that they’ll be there in a minute.

Taking a deep breath, he parks the car and glances at his strapped-in, bouncy children. Making a mental note to himself to video their first encounter with their furry family member, he gets out to take the children out of their car seats.

“We’re there, we’re there, we’re there. We’re ready for our surprise,” Jamie chants and leaps out so fast he nearly faceplants. Tom manages to grab a fistful of his jacket and keep his shiny-eyed son upright. Vicky crowes “upriiiiiise” and nuzzles into his arms, then tucks her thumb into her mouth and sucks it eagerly, eyes wide in anticipation.

Tom takes Jamie’s hand firmly in his, settles Vicky more firmly in the cradle of his arm and walks to the door.

“Ready?” he asks, which prompts more bouncing and shouting.

It’s the sign for Han to open the door from the inside. They’ve agreed that she’ll hide behind it so that only a–hopefully obediently sitting–Buddy will be visible in the doorway.

Somehow, Tom’s heart beats a mile. He’s almost as excited as his children.

* * *

Han’s got Buddy to actually stay put behind the door. As she opens it – getting the camera of her phone ready – she hears the telltale patter of Jamie’s feet.

By the lack of a second pair of tiny feet Han assumes that Tom is carrying their little girl. Resisting to glance from behind the door, she waits for the shouts and screams that are surely about to come.

“Papaaaaaaaa! Doggie! Puppyyyyy!” Yup. There it is.

Han is recording by now, seeing how Jamie storms over the threshold towards Buddy. He stops right in front of the dog that is just a little smaller than her son. Jamie turns towards the door, bouncing where he stands. “Is it mine? Jamie touch?”

That’s when Han can’t hold back her chuckles anymore, and she hears Tom do the same. Vicky adds a “Dottiiiieee! Mine!” to the mix, and when Buddy starts barking and wagging his tail as he sniffs at the little boy all hell seems to break loose.

“It’s ours,” she says, and Jamie looks at the direction her voice comes from.

He waves and shouts, “Mama! It’s a dooooog!” A dog that’s now running excitedly between Jamie, Tom, and Han. She’s a little afraid Buddy’s going to pee again – or her excited child for that matter. Luckily he’s not using the potty, yet – or that it’s too much for the children.

“It’s a dog,” Tom answers for her, now carrying Vicky inside. She’s jumping in his arms, making Tom grin and roll his eyes at the same time. Han sees his phone in the other hand as well, sure that she’s in his video as much as he’s in hers. “His name is Buddy. He’s going to live here now.”

“Like, forever?!”

Han decides this is not the time teaching her children about mortality. So, she shrugs and shares a look with Tom, who’s shrugging as well. “Yeah, forever,” she answers. “Do you like that?”

“Yes!”

By now, she’s stopped recording and stands beside Tom instead, stroking Vicky’s leg. “Are you happy, too?”

“Uh-huh. Down, Papa!”

He does as he’s told – of course – now recording their two children sitting in front of Buddy, the three of them getting to know each other.

“It’s going to be loud here now, isn’t it?”

Tom pockets his phone, before he nods. “Sure is.”

Right on cue, Buddy lets out a friendly bark. His rather loud ‘woof’ startles Vicky and she falls on her pampers bum with a soft thud, staring wide-eyed.

Han is half in motion but Tom lays a hand on her elbow. The children need this, he thinks. A dog is no plushie, and the sooner they figure that out, the better.

For a moment, his daughter looks like she’s going to bawl. Jamie’s lower lip is trembling in sympathy though he manfully didn’t flinch at the unexpected bark.

Buddy, apparently used to children just like the lady at the shelter said, assesses the situation. He dips his head and gives Vicky a big, sloppy lick up her arm. The next instant, she’s giggling and has forgotten all about her shock. One of her small fists grabs a hunk of the long, golden fur and tugs. When the dog moves closer, she uses her free hand to pat his snout.

“Dottie. Vee’s dottie,” she crowes.

“And Jamie’s doggie,” her brother chimes in possessively, walking over to wrap his arms around the newcomer and press a smacking kiss onto his silky head.

Well, they’ll have to talk about hygiene… But Tom’s can’t help grinning, and Han has relaxed next to him too, sniggering softly.

* * *

A week later, and the kids have settled down a bit with Buddy. Well, at least a little bit that is.

“Walkies” as they call it – or “watties” as Vicky and Jamie say – are still an adventure every day. Everyone’s excited then, and Han needs to focus on two children – one when Jamie is in nursery and it’s just Vicky and her in the mornings – as well as a dog that needs to check out his surroundings.

And yes, it’s Han and the children, and Buddy. Tom’s been home with Buddy for three days when he was called away. A co-star of his had to go to the hospital, and Tom – sweet and loving as he is – jumped in. He’s flown out to Shanghai on Wednesday, to Sydney on Thursday, and now on Saturday afternoon he’s due to be back.

Han loves how helpful he is, and she’s used to him being away. But she also knows that the jetlag is going to get him again.

“Mama? Buddy watties?”

Han looks up from where she’s sitting on the couch, reading a book. She’s put the children down for their naps an hour ago. Jamie’s obviously awake now, walking towards her as he rubs his eyes.

The dog he’s asking about is in his dog bed, napping in the sun that shines through the living-room windows.

“No walkies with Buddy right now, we just went before your and Vee’s nap, right?”

Jamie pouts but nods. He’s come closer and is now scrambling to climb up the couch next to Han. She sets down her book and wraps an arm around her son.

When he snuggles close, Han nuzzles her nose in his hair, basking in that toddler smell that always makes her feel comforted.

“Papa coming home, too?”

Han suppresses a sigh and decides to stroke Jamie’s hair instead. “He’ll be here soon, I promise.”

* * *

As it turns out, soon isn’t soon at all but rather later. So late, in fact, that Jamie has joined Vicky on the couch for an after-dinner cartoon. Han is sitting with them, one child snuggled to each side of her. Faithful Buddy is slumbering by her feet, occasionally snuffling in his sleep or twitching an ear at a high-pitched noise from the cartoon.

Han has already told her children repeatedly that ‘Papa will be home in a bit’, and she’s also received a somewhat jumbled SMS from Tom that he’s stuck in a traffic jam due to an accident someone’s had along the same route.

Everyone’s missing him. And he’ll be so tired today.

Buddy startles awake, instantly alert and fur quivery. His initial ‘woof?’ sounds like a question and makes her grin. Before she can talk to the dog, he’s scrambled towards the door, his claws making clicking noises the floor. From the living room, she can see the Golden Retriever rise on his hind legs and paw at the wood, whining while his tail whips back and forth.

A moment later, a key turns in the lock and Tom lets himself in. He’s barely made it through the opening before he’s attacked by Buddy, who’s simultaneously trying to dry-hump his leg and lick his face.

Tom huffs a laugh. He’s not able to do much more, almost being knocked back by an over-excited dog.

He lets his bag drop where he stands in order to pet Buddy. “You’ve been good for Mummy and the little ones, Mate? Kept an eye on them for me?”

Barking, Buddy stops licking and scratching. Instead, he turns around in circles, barking again, and starting to make his way towards the living-room several times, seemingly begging Tom to follow.

He closes the door first, and leans against it, closing his eyes. Just for a short moment.

A shout of “Papa!” makes him snap his eyes open, just in time to see Jamie’s little body connect with his legs, making Tom grunt.

He can’t pick him up, he would probably keel over just from trying. So, he strokes Jamie’s head instead.

“They missed you,” Tom hears Han stating softly. He looks towards the living-room, a picture of utter bliss presenting itself to him. Han has Vicky in her arms, a warm smile on her face, while his daughter makes grabby motions.

Tom smiles. At least, he hopes so. He’s knackered. No. Scratch that. Exhausted. He’s got no idea which time zone he’s even in, just that his family is there. And that it’s a time zone that has him tired. It’s not even the over-tired giddiness anymore.

He loves his fans. He loves his co-worker and friend as well. And if there’s an emergency in the family that ties said co-worker to the U.S., Tom makes his best to make up for it. They’d do the same for him.

But damn, he’s definitely not 20 anymore.

“You too,” he finally answers, already calculating the time he needs to make his way to them. Maybe at this point he could just stay leaning against the door.

“Papa, up!” comes Jamie’s demand, and Tom swears he can hear every single one of his body parts shout in protest.

“Buddy, Papa’s really, really tired, and…” The look of disappointment all but kills him, so Tom stops mid-sentence and summons his last bit of strength to bend and haul his son into his arms.

Right. He’s not faceplanting, which is good, really good. But surely he can’t be expected to walk with what feels like two tons of child in his hold?

Tom sways a bit and leans his back against the door as Jamie snuggles in. He sends Han a look and feels her caring, understanding smile cut through the haze.

She walks closer and leans in so he can kiss first her, then a crowing Vicky. Shifting their wee daughter onto a hip, Han holds out her other arm.

“Jamie,  _Schatz_ , Papa’s so tired he’ll fall over his own feet and get hurt just because he needs to carry you too. You don’t want that, right?”

His son looks shocked and shakes his head so rapidly he neatly clocks Tom on the jaw, which was already aching from yawning so much.

“Good. Then why don’t you let me carry you and we’ll all get settled in the living room, without anyone falling and getting hurt?”

“Papa tired.” Commiserating, Jamie strokes a stubble-covered cheek before being passed willingly into his mother’s arm.

Yay. Thank God for his amazing wife. Now if only she could carry Tom too…

Han’s known him for quite a few years now, and she can tell Tom’s dead on his feet.

Actually, she doesn’t even need to know him that well, because his droopy eyes tell her everything.

“I’ll drop these two off,” she whispers to Tom, not quite sure if he even understands. But he does nod while leaning against the door, so she presses a brief kiss on his lips and turns with both children in her arms.

“Are you both excited that Papa is back?”

Han winces as both little Hiddlestons simultaneously shout out “Yes!” in her ears.

“That’s good, that’s good!”

When they reach the living-room where the cartoon is still playing, Han grins to herself and lets both Jamie and Vicky drop on the couch. They laugh, loving to bounce a bit.

“Again!”

Han checks the hall, wondering if Tom followed them. Or if he has at least taken off his shoes. Nope. Still leaning against the door.

“Okay,” she says and lifts a finger, “but only once more.”

So, she picks up Jamie first, throwing him on the large couch. While he laughs, Han does the same to Vicky, just a bit more careful.

“Okay, that’s it, now you’ll settle down while I go and check on Papa, okay?”

Still giggling they nod, then turn towards the tv.

Han walks back out to the hall and Tom. “Come on, husband of mine,” she says to him, taking his hand. “Have you eaten?”

“Hmhm, tonight.”

Han frowns. “It’s just past 7.”

“Oh. Then. Uh.”

“I’ll make you something.” They walk to the kitchen, Tom sitting down on the chair.

He puts his arms on the table and rests his forehead on them. “Ugh,” he groans. “I’ve never been this tired in my life.”

Han comes to stand next to him, running her hands through Tom’s hair. “I can only imagine. But you’re home now. You can–"

But she’s interrupted by the sound of something dropping onto the floor in the living-room and Jamie’s wail of “Vee! Popcorn!”

“Sleep,” she mumbles, “eventually, we can both sleep.”

Han presses a kiss to Tom’s head with its mussed hair and then walks to the living room to see what all the fuss is about. By the time she’s consoled the children and stopped laughing at Buddy eating the spilled popcorn, minutes have passed.

Although she usually doesn’t encourage too much TV, Han switches the channel to another cartoon, promises Jamie and Vicky new snacks, and finally walks back into the kitchen. Buddy follows her after a soulful look back at the now popcorn-less carpet.

He pads into the kitchen, sees Tom seated at the table and gives a joyous ‘woof’.

Tom–who must’ve been dozing with his head on his arms–startles awake so suddenly that he almost falls off the chair.

“Wha-what? Is it time to board the flight?” He looks around wildly, blinking like an owl in daylight. “Huh. Doesn’ look like ‘n airport.”

Han suppresses a grin because she does feel sorry for him. “Tom, you’re already home. There’s no flight for a few days now.” Under her breath, she mumbles “hopefully” because she wouldn’t put it past Tom to agree to another promotional stint if asked.

He scrubs a hand down his face and shakes himself, which prompts Buddy to pad closer and rest his front paws on Tom’s thigh, giving him a puppy dog look. Tom’s smile is a ghost of itself when he lifts a hand as if it weighs a ton and scratches the dog behind his floppy ear.

Han knows Buddy has missed Tom almost as much as their children have. And she knows Tom can’t say no to the animal either. But she can.

“Buddy, no! Down.” The dog looks at her like she’s betrayed him and his family. But she just points to the hall. “Daddy’s tired, you go watch the little ones.”

When the dog trudges away, Tom chuckles softly. “You’ve got them all under control. Me too.”

Han smirks at him. “Why, thank you,” she winks. “So, what do you want to eat? I’ve got some lasagne left from dinner?”

Tom’s eyes are heavy lidded as he looks back at her. He nods. He and Jamie look so much alike when they’re tired (when they’re not as well). The only thing missing is Tom rubbing his eyes with both his fists. But the night is still young, who knows, maybe she’ll get to see that as well.

Han moves closer to him again, kneeling next to his chair. Her tired husband hums when she strokes his cheek. “I’ll heat up the food, and when you eat, I’ll put the children to bed. And then I’ll come back and put you to bed as well.”

Speak of the devil, the two little ones choose exactly that moment to make an entrance and decide they’ve missed their papa enough – so much that they’ll ignore their cartoon for him.

“Sit with Papa?” Jamie asks, and is already scrambling to climb into Tom’s lap. Vicky toddles around the chair and comes to stand next to Han, one hand on her mother’s thigh, the other on Tom’s knee.

Just when Han wants to chastise them, Tom shakes his head. “No, let them. Missed them. Missed you,” he murmurs. By now, he’s got a hold on Jamie’s waist, wrapping his arm around him, and holds Vicky’s hand.

Han sighs, but then smiles. “Missed you too.” She leans closer and presses a soft kiss against his lips, before she stands up. With her hands on her hips she addresses her children. “When I’m done preparing food for Papa, you’ll two go to bed, okay?”

They nod, and Han can’t help the chuckle escaping her, before she turns and re-heats the meal for Tom.

When she’s done with the food – half listening to Jamie telling Tom all about Buddy and Vicky babbling along – and puts it in front of Tom, she manages to get the children off him. They smother him with kisses and only leave when he promises – although Han is not sure how much he’ll remember – to spend the entire next day on the playground with them.

“I’ll be back in no time, Tom. Eat, and then we’ll sleep.”

She’s not that tired, but she’s missed him, and even if she’ll lie next to him awake for two hours, it’ll be worth it. She’ll enjoy the cuddles as much as Tom.

When Han returns quite a few minutes later, she’s treated to a sight she would never have thought possible: Tom sitting in front of food but not eating it. He’s got a piece of lasagna on his fork, and his fork in his hand. But it’s resting on the plate and doesn’t seem like it’s ever going to manage the journey up to his mouth. And the plate looks as if he’s only eaten a few bites so far.

Poor Tom, he really must be exhausted if even food can’t rouse him. He’s staring blearily into the half-distance, his head sometimes drooping a bit. As if he’s forgotten that he’s supposed to eat.

Han approaches, laying a hand on his shoulder, which promptly startles him again.

“Tom? You don’t have to eat if you’re too tired.”

He blinks at her, at the plate, back at her. “Mhm. ‘ll eat later then.”

She has a feeling ‘later’ will be tomorrow, unless his body’s clock is so messed up that he’ll wake up in the middle of the night and raid the fridge (which has happened before).

“Bed then?”

He nods…and rubs his eyes with his fists. Okay then, definitely like father, like son. Han resists the urge to tousle his already disheveled hair and gets rid of the plate instead. When she turns back, Tom has somehow pulled himself upright but is holding onto the chair and swaying. It gives her flashbacks of drunk!Tom but unlike that day years ago, she feels terribly sorry for him today.

Han leans back against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. She watches as Tom shakes his head a few times and then seems to get steadier on his feet.

Tom’s certainly not a macho, and over the past years, he’s let Han see him weak more than once. But he seems to be determined to not be taken to bed by Han.

Because right now, he’s looking at her and then gets that look on his face. That ‘I’m a grown man, and if my son can climb into the bed alone, I can too’-look. It’s barely working. “I’ll go t’ bed now.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in five minutes top, when I’ll have the mess in the living-room cleaned up.” She gets a thumbs-up in response.

Tom shuffles out of the kitchen, bumping into the door frame on his way out. Han smothers an ‘aaaw’ that threatens to escape. Instead she chooses the other door that leads to the living-room as soon as she hears Tom’s feet landing heavily on the stairs.

Just as she promised it takes no longer than five minutes to let Buddy out in the garden for a quick pee, for her to clean up the mess her two little children – and the one dog – made, and get Buddy settled in the doggie bed.

God, she’s missed Tom. Sure, they’ve been apart from each other for much longer periods of time before, but that doesn’t stop Han from needing to crawl into bed with him, cuddle him, and letting his breathing lull her to sleep.

But there’s nobody there when she’s made her way up the stairs and into the bedroom. Han frowns, but then she sees the light from beneath the bathroom door.

“Tom?” she asks as she moves closer first and then knocks. No answer. She opens the door and stops dead in her tracks.

He is sitting in the edge of the tub, his head resting against the glass wall of the shower. His eyes are closed, his face is relaxed. In his hand that rests on his thigh, he holds his tooth brush, his breathing is deep.

“Oh, dear,” Han whispers, a small smile on her face despite feeling sorry for her husband. He looks so peaceful. Well, apart from the drooling.

Tom doesn’t even startle when Han takes the tooth brush from his hand and kneels in front of him. She brushes a finger along his thigh.

“Wake up,  _Schatz_.”

Nothing. Not even a tiny snort or shift in position.

Han feels almost cruel to be waking him up, but he’ll thank her for getting him into bed, no matter how peacefully he might be slumbering now.

“Tom?  _Schatz_?  _Aufwachen_!” Usually, speaking German will do the trick because Tom has never made a secret of how much he likes that.

Nope, not this time.

“Thomas William Hiddleston, get your arse up from the tub right this moment,” she tries again, raising her voice and using her ‘Mama tone’. Not even that command helps, though Tom does give a startled breath and jerk before slipping right back into sleep.

With a sigh, Han contemplates running her hand higher and seeing whether a touch of his most sensitive body parts will help. But somehow, that feels like violating him because he’s so out of it.

There’s only one thing left… She rises and takes the few steps to the sink, opening the tap. Cupping a bit of cold water in her hand, she flicks into towards Tom’s face, regretting to have to resort to this.

“Wha-fuck?!”

With a yelp, Tom flinches awake, eyes saucer-sized and toothbrush slipping out of his hand to clatter to the tiled floor.

Tom blinks. Then startles as he realises blinking has taken him a few seconds, and he needs to open his eyes again.

Ignoring the cold water dripping from his chin for a moment, he looks around. He’s only got a vague memory of getting ready to brush his teeth. Of climbing the stairs even. He feels like his head is filled with cotton, and a little drunk.

When Tom’s gaze lands on Han, she looks back with so much sympathy that he would blush if he wasn’t so out of it.

His wife comes closer and grabs for the tooth brush on the floor. “Maybe we’ll ignore that for tonight and just go to bed, hm?”

That right there. That’s an excellent idea. So, Tom leans his head to the side again. Sleep.

At Han’s “hey, hey, hey,” he startles.

“What?”

“Sleep in the bedroom. In a real bed.”

Tom’s not sure, but perhaps he mutters something along the lines of ‘spoilsport’, which at least earns him a laugh.

The next thing he knows, he’s indeed in his bed. At least, he hopes so, because it’s comfy, soft, and warm. And he doesn’t want to move. Just one thing missing.

“Han?” he mumbles. Not sure, if she even hears him, or where she is. “Need.”

Han finishes her task of removing Tom’s shoes and settling his legs more comfortably on the bed, pretty sure he doesn’t even notice it. What does he need now? Water? More comfy clothes? Or will he insist on brushing his teeth despite his exhaustion?

“What do you need, Tom?” She gives a socked foot a rub before moving closer and leaning forward because he’s spoken in such a low voice.

“You,” comes a barely audible mumble. “Need…you. Sleep.”

Han suppresses an “aaawww” and smiles at her oblivious husband who can barely lift a hand to half-heartedly beckon her closer and can’t blink his eyes open either.

She decides she can go through the rest of her activities later, once he’s fallen asleep. Lifting the blanket, she snuggles in at his side, tucking herself under his arm as if he’d have had the strength to pull her close.

With a soft sigh that reminds her oddly of a blissed-out Buddy, Tom gives her the tiniest of nudges.

“Sleep well,  _Schatz_ ,” she whispers, giving him a light peck on the scruffy cheek.

His reply is a tiny snore, which makes her smile again. He’s home now. It’s all going to be fine. And maybe she’ll bribe Jamie and wee Vicky with extra eggs for breakfast tomorrow so they’ll be really quiet.


End file.
